Harry Potter and the New Architect of the Universe
by Respawn.ftw
Summary: Those of the House are not to interfere with the secondary realms. Arthur is allowed to go to hogwarts as long as he follows this one rule.  set after lord sunday and during harry's sixth year.
1. Holy Crap wizards are real?

**Summary: This takes place sometime after Lord Sunday and during Harry's sixth year. Of course Arthur's gonna be powerful, he's half of the creator of the universe. However, he won't be too powerful cuz he is the "mortal" half and they're not supposed to interfere anyways.**

* * *

_Headmaster: __Albus Dumbledore__  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Penhaligon,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Normally this letter would have been sent on your 11__th__ birthday, however, for whatever reason; you have not been accessible until now. Because of this, you shall meet Headmaster Dumbledore a month prior to the beginning of the school year in order to purchase supplies and learn the basics of magic._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,  
__Minerva McGonagall__  
Deputy Headmistress  


* * *

  
_

Arthur Penhaligon stared at the letter he had just received from a rather disheveled looking owl that had smashed into his window and was now perched on his desk. He reread the letter a couple more times before he dove for his cellphone and dialed a number.

"Hello, you have reached the operator of the House, how may I help you?" came a bored voice.

"Hi, this is Arthur Penhaligon, can you connect me to the Architect? He's probably in the incomparable Garden's right now, thanks."

Immediately, the operator's voice became a lot more enthusiastic, and he suddenly seemed rather nervous, "Ah, yes, right away sir, of course," in the background Arthur faintly heard, "OY, get off your lazy ass and do your job! Lord Arthur's on the phone!" followed by the sound of many people rushing about and more than a few yelps of pain.

"Just a moment sir, you will be connected shortly."

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And…

"Hello?" This time, the voice on the other end was smooth, pleasant, and sounded vaguely like an older Arthur.

"Ooh is that Arthur? Lemme talk ta him! Gimme the phone Art!"

"Suzy, quit it! He called me, besides I think it's important!"

The bickering continued for a full half minute before Arthur all but yelled, "GUYS!" after which they quieted down.

"Art, do you remember creating humans that could do magic on earth?"

"Now that you mention it, yea, the atlas had some stuff about people like that, but I didn't really pay any attention to it. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Well, I just got a letter from some magic school called Hogwarts, and they want me to attend the school, so I just wanted to know a bit more."

"Well, from what the Atlas says, they're called witches and wizards, and do magic, similar to higher ranking denizens. However, instead of using nothing they use wands made of various parts of magical beings as a medium to channel their power. More convenient and less risky, but also less powerful. Apparently they're in some sort of war at the moment."

Thinking for a couple seconds, Arthur replied, "I'm thinking of going to this school."

Art's voice suddenly grew serious, "Arthur, you know that's not possible. No interference with the secondary realms. It's already a risk having you in the secondary realms at all."

"I promise I'll keep the interference to a minimum, I just want to see what it's like, it could be interesting" said Arthur in an almost pleading voice. Arthur was stubborn, and the Architect knew that he would probably end up going regardless of the whether he was fine with it or not. After all, they were one and the same.

Art relented and said "Fine, but do not interfere unless it is absolutely necessary, and do not get involved with their war. You taking part in something on that scale could offset the future of mankind," in a conspiratorial whisper he added "It's also Suzy's duty as Lady Sunday to keep everything in order, and I doubt she would be happy if she had to fix the rest of human history."

Although Art had been joking about the last part, Arthur knew he was serious about not messing around and promised not to interfere with the Wizard's war, then hung up.

Arthur strode over to his desk, wrote a quick reply saying that he would be attending Hogwarts, woke up the irate, nearly-forgotten owl and sent it on its way. Turning around, Arthur saw a packaged bundle on his desk with a note.

* * *

_Arthur, I'm letting you use this for your stay at Hogwarts. You may only use its magic in emergencies and even then you are to be very wary when using it._

_Signed,_

_Lord Arthur "Art" Penhaligon_

_Master of the Lower House, Lord of the Far Reaches, Duke of the Border Sea, Overlord of the Great Maze, Commander in Chief of the Glorious Army of the Architect, Master of the Middle House, Ruler of the Upper House, Lord of the Incomparable Gardens, the House and the Secondary Realms._

_New Architect of the House_

_P.S. Since technically you are me, you should be able to use this without turning into a denizen, so no worries there._

_P.P.S. You can have that first title, I think I prefer "New Architect of the House" it flows a lot better than all that other stuff.  


* * *

_

Unwrapping the package, Arthur beheld a white baton, wrapped in golden laurel leaves and that seemed to be glowing faintly. The Fourth Key.

Taking hold of the key, Arthur felt a familiar surge of energy, and the baton shifted into a form he knew well.

The baton lengthened and grew a hilt. handle and a blade. Within seconds, Arthur was wielding a long, sleek rapier that he experimentally started swinging. Pleased to see that he had not forgotten what he had learned in the Glorious Army of the Architect, Arthur returned the key to its baton form and lay it back down on the desk.

What had Art said that the wizards used to perform magic? A wand? Well, it doesn't hurt to be slightly prepared, Arthur reasoned as he once again lifted the fourth key. And it's not like a _tiny_ bit of magic would really be that bad right?

"Key, give me a wand that is worthy of the New Architect of the House!"

Nothing happened.

Frowning, Arthur thought and said "Key, bring forth a wand that is worthy of the New Architect, yet weaker than the Keys to the Kingdom!"

This time, something did happen, inky black nothing began to spout from the tip of the key and began to shape his new wand. Finished, the powerful tool fell to the ground with a thud and proceeded to roll under the bed.

As Arthur went to pick up his new tool, he was distracted by another note on his desk,

* * *

_No, Seriously, I mean it, that key is to be used in emergencies only._

_Signed,_

_Lord Arthur "Art" Penhaligon_

_New Architect of the House  


* * *

_

"Ok! Fine! I won't use it anymore unless it's an emergency! Happy now?" Arthur yelled, mostly to himself. He snorted as more words wrote themselves on the paper,

* * *

_Yes. Very. :D  


* * *

_

Discarding the note, Arthur retrieved his new wand, gasping as it was revealed to him. Now _this,_ this was a nice wand.

**

* * *

Yay the first story In this crossover :D**

**Oh, to whoever can guess what type of wand Arthur has (core, what it's made of, etc) you get a cookie :D**

**I don't think it's really that hard to guess anyways.**

**Review please, constructive criticism is very welcome.**

**Flames, ill grudgingly accept and trolls get beaten to death with a +10 baseball bat of Darwinian evolution.**


	2. supplies

So, Im trying to decide where to have Arthur spend his time until School. The choices are:

The Burrow (Its feasible, but it think unlikely, as Arthur doesn't have a reason to go there.)

Grimmauld (I dont think Dumbledore would just give away the location of Grimmauld just like that)

In a room in the leaky cauldron (give poor tom some customers)

So yea tell me what you think.

* * *

Arthur gazed in almost-reverence at the wand that he held in his hand. It was made of a dark wood inscribed with cryptic runes; veins of crystal spiraled and branched out from the base to the tip of the wand. The veins of crystal emitted an almost unnoticeable dim, blue glow, visible only in his darkened room. Occasionally, Arthur could spot a familiar black liquid making swift revolutions throughout the crystal. Nothing.

Arthur jumped back with a start as the Atlas (which he could have sworn wasn't there a couple seconds ago)slammed open and pages began to rapidly flip. In leisurely, neat writing, words began to appear on the paper, written by an invisible hand

* * *

_The wand of the great architect of the House is made of the finest, most powerful items that are obtainable from the House. Wood from various parts of the great Drasil Trees, which hold up the incomparable gardens, constitute the main body of the wand, and are inscribed with the most potent spells and incantations produced by the sorcerers of the upper house. These etchings as well as the veins of Nothing resistant crystal reinforce the wand and user from the volatile core of nothing. Unlike conventional wands, the Nothing core is not fixed in place, but rather races eternally throughout the hollow portions of the wand. Generally, there is not much within the secondary realms that would be capable of destroying the wand, however if the wand is destroyed, a great explosion is likely to ensue, a result of the highly temperamental core. Much like the keys to the house and atlas, the wand may not be handled or used by another without the owner's consent._

* * *

As Arthur finally finished the last couple lines, the Atlas closed and shrunk back to its original size. Arthur stowed away the wand, key and atlas in his desk, and went to bed, pondering the recent events of the night.

The days until August 1st, the date on which this Dumbledore man was to pick him up, were uneventful. It took some convincing to get his father to allow him to go to an unknown school for the rest of his education, and Arthur didn't even bother explaining the whole "magic" aspect of the deal, but in the end he consented.

As Arthur Lounged around his room, making sure that he had all of his stuff packed, he heard a Crack, followed a couple seconds later by his doorbell ringing. Groaning as he stood from his comfortable resting position, he down to the front door and opened it to a rather bizarre sight.

The man on the other side of the door was, to put it simply, odd. He dressed oddly, he looked odd, and he even radiated a sort of 'oddness.'

He wore a long, midnight blue…dress? No, it was a robe, or was it? Dispelling the not-so-important dilemma from his mind, he noticed that the man wore a weird looking pointy hat that was also in the same hue as his robes/dress. In all fairness, the man wasn't as odd as, say, a certain Piper's child that Arthur knew who like to wear layers upon layers of coats and jackets, but by average human standards, he was certainly a strange looking person.

As for the man himself, he was tall, elderly, and had twinkling blue eyes nested behind a pair of horn rimmed glasses. A long, flowing, white beard obscured a good portion of his face, though Arthur could just sense that the old man was smiling.

Either this man was an escapee, one of the more senile ones at that, from the rest home down the street, or he was the Mr. Dumbledore who was supposed to pick him up. 

The man soon confirmed the latter when he spoke, "Ah, hello there, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, I am here to see a Mr. Arthur Penhaligon"

Tearing himself away from his close examination of Mr. Dumbledore's odd appearance, Arthur replied, "That's me, err, would you like to come in Mr. Dumbledore?"

"yes my boy, but not for too long, we are on a rather tight schedule. Is your father, by any chance, here? I would like to speak with him before we set off."

Arthur ran to fetch his dad from the study and returned a couple seconds dragging a rather confused looking Bob behind him. Arthur then went upstairs to gather his belongings.

"Ah, Mr. Penhaligon, I am Albus Dumbledore, as you may already know, I am here to pick up your son, but I wanted to greet you before we left"

Ogling slightly at his guest's strange choice in clothing, Bob merely nodded, "Umm, yes, nice to meet you Mr. Dumbledore, err, yeah…"

Dumbledore either did not notice his host's ineloquence, or simply chose to ignore it, as he stated, "Well, we really must be off, we have a rather busy schedule today. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Penhaligon."

At this point, Arthur had his clothes, wand and some personal belonging packed into a suitcase. He had also reluctantly decided to bring his House cellphone, just in case. He followed Dumbledore as they were escorted to the door by his father.

Bob, who, by now, and recovered from his initial shock, was bombarding Dumbledore with various questions. To his credit, Dumbledore was easily able to answer them, and had allayed any fears that Bob had with sending his frailest child to an unknown school, whose headmaster was this eccentrically dressed old man.

Finally, after another set of hasty goodbyes, Arthur and his new headmaster were left standing alone in front of his house. Looking around uncertainly, Arthur asked, "Umm Mr. Dumbledore, do you have a car? How are we going to get to…well, wherever we're going?"

Chuckling softly, Dumbledore answered, "Please Arthur, call me 'Professor,' 'Mr.' sounds rather strange. And to answer your question, we will be apparating to our destination. If you would so kindly take my arm?"

Looking dubiously at the offered arm, Arthur took it and nearly threw up as he felt a jolt around his stomach, and the street around him turned into a chaotic mismatch of colors. Once everything had calmed down once again, Arthur staggered to a nearby wall and tried to keep himself from vomiting, he vaguely wondered if his puke was also gold, and if the wizards might find that strange.

Having regained his composure, Arthur looked around the dingy alleyway he now found himself in and saw Dumbledore waiting patiently at the door to an equally dingy pub. The sign on the front identified the pub as the leaky cauldron, and it certainly did seem to live up to its name.

Still slightly queasy, Arthur limped, walked, and followed Dumbledore into the pub and out the back, where they stood staring at a brick wall. Dumbledore then reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand and tapped the bricks in sequence. Immediately, the bricks started to shift and move about, revealing a somber street. Normally colorful signs were hidden by wanted posters and safety advisories. The streets themselves were lined with stalls, most of which seemed rather seedy. Nervous tension filled the air, and Arthur could almost see the lifelessness of the street, it felt like a pallid gray aura had settled upon the place.

They spent some time at Madame Malkins, as Arthur was fitted with new robes (robes, not dresses he reminded himself), followed by a trip to Flourish and Blott's for the required texts for his sixth year, as well as his supplemental studies.

It was after leaving the apothecary that Arthur spotted the first sign of life within the drab alley. Not so much spotted, as it had nearly exploded into his view. The windows of the shop were almost ablaze with flashes of colors, spinning, exploding, snapping, sparkly things populated the windows. Arthur entered the store, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and was surprised to find that it was packed with people. Looking through the store inventory, he found several things, ranging from amusing nick-nacks(he thought the self hanging hangman was pretty funny), to some downright dangerous (in his opinion) items. Really, who in their right minds would make a telescope that would punch you in the face?

Several minutes later, and sporting an attractive black eye, Arthur emerged from the shop to find Dumbledore waiting, staring bemusedly at his new facial feature.

"May I?" he asked, indicating to Arthur's bruised eye.

Arthur merely grunted in response. Dumbledore once again took out his wand, and with a few simple waves, the black eye had disappeared.

"Now, we are off to Ollivander's wand shop" stated Dumbledore

"Umm, I already have a wand professor"

"Is that so? Where did you get it?"

Damn. What was he supposed to say? That one of the Keys to the Epicenter of the Universe had made it? Thinking that that would not go over to well, Arthur responded, "A good friend of mine gave it to me when I told him I was going to Hogwarts." It wasn't completely a lie, right?

"Really? Well, you should still have a checkup, as it may not be as suited to you if it originally belonged to a friend. Though, I must confess, I am not as much of an expert in wands as Mr. Ollivander is, it is my understanding the wand reacts differently with different wizards."

Dammit. The wand wasn't made out of anything humans had ever seen before; would they be able to tell? Probably, seeing as it looked very different from the wooden wand that Dumbledore had been using. However, finding no legit reason to refuse, Arthur was forced to consent, and they made their way to Ollivander's.

The store was rather shabby, and upon entering the musty store, Arthur was assaulted by dust that would have left him completely incapacitated if he had still had asthma. As it was, Arthur was only reduced to a coughing, wheezing, choking fit which quickly subsided.

A pale-eyed, elderly man popped out from behind the desk, "Ah Albus, it has been a while since you have been here in this shop. How can I help you?"

"Arthur here," Dumbledore indicated Arthur "is a new student at Hogwarts, and was in need of a wand. Apparently, he has already received one, so I thought it best for him to have a checkup."

"Quite old to be a new student, don't you think?... No matter, may I see the wand?"

Hesitantly, Arthur withdrew the wand from his pants pocket and passed it to Ollivander. Both Dumbledore's and Ollivander's eyes widened significantly at the sight of the wand. The darkness of the shop easily allowed the blue glow to be seen, it gave the wand a sort of mystical, ethereal property. The wand itself was a work of art, the blue spirals of crystal contrasted nicely with the dark wood, and the inscribed runes looked cryptic and archaic.

"I have never seen anything like this, who mad e this, what is it made of?" the reverence and awe was evident in Ollivander's voice.

He gave the wand an experimental flick, and was instantly rewarded with a small explosion, as, simultaneously, his table shattered, the door to the shop was blown off its hinges across the street, and the windows turned into deadly shards of glass shrapnel.

Picking himself up off the floor, Arthur told Ollivander "The man who gave this to me told me that it may be resistant to anyone but me using it."

Ollivander handed Arthur the wand. Giving it an experimental wave, Arthur succeeded in creating a new, solid gold desk, diamond windows, and a silver door.

To say that the two other men in the room were shocked would be a massive understatement. Even Dumbledore, as old as he was, had never seen a wand so powerful, and it excited him.

After Apologizing for the trouble (and mess) the final stop for supplies was at the magical menagerie, where Arthur was greeted with a variety of squawks, roars, mews, and some other unintelligible noise. After searching the store for a while, Arthur heard a commotion in the back and decided to check it out when a black blur slammed into him, almost knocking him off of his feet. The black thing scrambled up his arm and perched on his shoulder, cawing indignantly at its pursuers. A couple staff members stopped short of Arthur and stared. The bird had been quite raucous when they had received it, but was now docile, sitting on a boy's shoulder no less.

Identifying the bird as a crow, Arthur held his arm out in front of him to serve as a perch. The crow hopped off of his shoulder and landed on his arm. Arthur was surprised to find that the crow had three legs, and instead of being entirely black, red markings adorned its back and wings. Arthur could see that when the wings were outstretched, the markings gave the appearance of a miniature sun upon the crows back. Looking closely, Arthur made out strange markings on each leg; they looked rather oriental in style. The bird turned its head and stared at him with a surprisingly intelligent look in its dark, beady eyes.

"How much does it cost?" Arthur asked the staff who had been staring.

"Do you even know what that bird is? It's a yatagarasu* one of the fabled three legged ravens from Asia! Rumor has it that there are only ten in the world and it's considered a deity! There is absolutely no way you could afford it, now give it here!"

The raven skawked indignantly again and shuffled around to give a piercing glare towards the staff members. "How much is it anyway?"

Shocked, the staff members quickly debated among themselves, and the one who had been speaking earlier gave Arthur the price, confident that he wouldn't be able to pay, "five thousand galleons!"

Wordlessly, Arthur took out the Gringotts bag Dumbledore had withdrawn for him, counted out then handed the necessary coins to the stunned staff. His coin bag was still comfortably heavy.

Leaving the store with the raven perched upon his shoulder, Arthur tried to think up a name for his new (expensive) pet. He remembered something from a history class he had taken at one point. A myth from Japan about how a God had harmonized  
chaos with order, brought forth land, and the forefathers of man.

"I'm going to name you…Izanagi

* * *

Holy Crap longest chapter ive ever written _

*So, about Arthur's bird. It's a yatagarasu, a three legged crow that stands for wisdom, the will of heaven and divine intervention. I thought it was appropriate, seeing as Arthur may as well be a god. The markings on the Crow's legs are heaven, earth and human, as the Japanese thought that the three legs symbolized these concepts. I kind of mixed the Chinese and Japanese version of this bird :P

I named it Izanagi because in Japanese mythology (which I love by the way) Izanagi is the god who created people. Like how Arthur created the new denizens. See the connection? That and I really really like Japanese Mythology. It was pretty close between Amaterasu(sun goddess) or Izanagi

Ok until next time :D

REVIEW :O


	3. In which Arthur acts like a badass

So I was rereading the last two chapters, and I couldn't help but inwardly cringe, its only been two months and already I hate my writing style from back then. To me its seems a bit rushed, and it feels like im laying it on too thick. What do my oh-so-loyal readers think? Is anyone even reading this? Hello? Hellooo? I feel so alone T_T

Ok so yea I figured I was loooong overdue for an update, so here you go the new (and hopefully improved) chapter 3 

* * *

Dumbledore had stayed long enough to get Arthur settled into one of the many vacant rooms in the leaky cauldron. Ever since the resurrection of Voldemort, business at the cauldron had suffered, and Tom had almost burst into grateful tear after Arthur had told him that he would be staying until the start of term.  
The room that he had situated himself in was small, sparsely decorated and had numerous cracks and dents in the walls and furniture. Looking out the window, Arthur was greeted with the sight of grime and dirt, and behind that, the skyline of Diagon Alley. 

Arthur had decided to give Izanagi free roam of the room, simply because he had felt bad stuffing the bird into the cramped little cage that he had bought. That and when he DID try to do it, the damn thing wouldn't SHUT UP.  
As it was now, the crow was flying lazy circles around the room, poking its beak into any random nook and cranny it could find before finally alighting on the sizable mountain of books that had been piled onto a desk. 

All five years of material that he would have to learn was perched precariously on his desk. Figuring that it would be better to tackle the immense amount of catch-up sooner rather than later, Arthur grabbed a first year book and started reading. The books turned out to be rather interesting, and dawn found Arthur lying asleep, buried among a pile of books 

Arthur spent the next few days getting caught up, he only went downstairs for his meals, and even then he always had his eyes trained on some form of wizarding reading material. It wasn't that Arthur was overly studious - at his old school he was considered an average student -it was that he found the wizards rather interesting. The magic that the wizards wielded was rather simple, requiring only a wave of the wand at the very least. Compared to some of the House sorcery that he had learned/experienced, which often required the use of hazardous, flesh eating nothing and precise rituals and incantations, wizarding magic was downright easy. 

It was a few days into his stay when something different had happened. Arthur was eating breakfast in the dining room, reading up on some third year material when quite a few people entered the small pub. It was, quite possibly, the most populated Arthur had seen the leaky cauldron since his arrival. Most of the arrivals had shocking red hair and a face peppered with freckles, the only anomalies were a glasses-wearing, black haired boy, and a bushy brown haired girl. Both seemed to be about his age, and he vaguely began wondering if they were also going to this school of his. 

"No no Tom, just passing through" said a red haired man, who seemed to be the patriarch of the family.

The barkeep, who had eagerly already taken some glasses out, stowed them away once more, a dejected look on his face, then glumly gestured to the back alley door.

Although the room was now noticeably fuller, the oppressive feeling still lingered, the newcomers all seemed tense and harried, throwing around nervous glances and observing the room carefully. The black haired boy, particularly, seemed on edge, and he wouldn't stop glancing around. As his eyes washed over the room, he locked eyes with Arthur, who had been staring impassively the entire time. The black haired one hastily dropped his gaze and followed the plump, red haired lady as she herded them all into the back-alley. Then they were gone. The commotion having left the pub, Arthur returned to his reading.

That had been the highlight of Arthur's stay at the leaky cauldron. He had abandoned going to Diagon Alley in favor of playing catch up, and by the end of the month, he had completely covered five years worth of work, and was now able to cast many spells easily and efficiently.

* * *

September first found Arthur standing at King's Cross, looking blankly around Platform 9. Where in all that was good and holy in the House would he find a platform 9 and three-quarters? It was idiotic. If it wasn't for the fact that the Atlas had confirmed that everything was, in fact, legit, Arthur would have chalked up this entire situation to an elaborate prank that someone was pulling on him. 

But who? Who would be able to come up with such an elaborate and long-winded prank? Suzy? No, she was the more direct type. Art? No, his counterpart had been against this whole thing since the beginning. One of the former trustees? He doubted it, he had made sure to reform their erroneous ways when he recreated them. He was genuinely surprised too; he didn't think that Monday would be the bubbly, gushy type. Or that Tuesday could make such great brownies. 

Finding that his train of thought was straying farther and farther from the original problem, Arthur shook his head and focused. Just in time, too, he had just barely caught the barest flash of red, and turning his head he caught a welcome sight. The family that he had seen at pub was on the station; surely they would know what to do. His eyes widened fractionally as he saw a lanky, red haired boy run head-first into one of the pillars separating platforms 9 and 10 and disappear. Arthur inwardly groaned, platform 9 and three-quarters. What an obvious, terrible joke. Really, could nothing be simple? 

Finding the last of the redheads disappearing, Arthur hurriedly followed and slightly gaped. There was an entire station hidden in the pillar! Breaking away from the incredible sight, Arthur boarded the train and found an empty compartment.

* * *

The train ride itself was rather uneventful, though a few times some smug looking students in green robes had been looking to cause trouble, but he managed to make them leave. The "Power of Persuasion" he liked to call it, while in reality, all Arthur had done was lace his words with enough magic for the goons to subconsciously follow his instructions. A rather useful trick, if he did say so himself.

The passing of a food trolley piled high with many strange candies and sweets caught Arthur's eye, coinciding with the rumbling of his stomach. Fishing some coins out of his pocket he questioned the lady

"Excuse me miss, how much will this buy?"

The lady's eyes bulged and she told him it was enough for the cart. And then some.

"Gimme all of it, please."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

In hindsight, it was probably too much candy at one time.

Just as the train pulled into the Hogwarts station, Arthur finally woke from a sweets induced coma, and wearily dragged his belongings from the storage compartment and prepared to disembark.

* * *

Harry found himself face down on the floor of the train, immobilized. Malfoy was gloating over him and telling him off for meddling. Apparently the prat liked the sound of his own voice.  
Malfoy stopped dead as the sound of footsteps reached their ears, and the compartment door slid open. Harry heard someone step in, but due to the fact that he had his face pressed uncomfortably into the floor, Harry was only able to make out the hem of the person's robes.  
"Expelliarmus!" having reacted instinctively, Malfoy had caught the intruder off guard, and Harry heard the clatter of a wand hitting the floor  
"Now," said Malfoy, and Harry could just imagine his sneering face "was there something you needed?"

-0-

Arthur had been getting off the train when he heard voices in one of the compartments. Well, more like a single voice. An exceedingly irritating, annoyingly self-satisfied, single voice.

Arthur had walked over to the compartment and opened the door In order to inform the occupants that everyone had already left, and was met with an odd sight.

A smug-looking platinum-blond boy was clutching his wand, standing over a bespectacled, black haired boy. The latter was lying face down on the ground, and from what Arthur could see, he was bleeding pretty badly from the nose.  
Reacting quickly, blondy raised his wand and shouted  
"Expelliarmus!"  
Arthur was a tad late in raising his wand, and he felt it wrench out of his grasp and clatter somewhere behind him.  
"Now," said blondy, "was there something you needed?"  
"Not really," Arthur gave blondy a passing glance, "I just came to tell you that everyone else is gone and the trains probable going to leave soon" Arthur had kept his voice nonchalant, but his body was unnoticeably tense, just in case blondy tried something, which he probably would.  
"Yes, I am aware, and I'm leaving actually," blondy's eyes narrowed, "too bad you're probably going to be sharing a ride with Potty here!" sure enough, blondy waved his wand, a spell on the tip of his tongue.

-0-

This was bad, Arthur didn't have his wand, and he didn't think it wise to draw the fourth key unless absolutely necessary. Thinking quickly, Arthur resorted to the last weapon in his arsenal.

-0-

From what Harry could hear, things were not going well for his savior. Just as Harry began to think that he would indeed have a companion sharing a ride back to platform 9 3/4, the boy said something in a strange tongue. It sounded like crackling fire, and Harry inwardly winced when he felt his eardrums convulse painfully and his joints twinged and ached.  
Harry heard a rather violent explosion behind him, in Malfoy's general direction, and hoped the git wasn't too badly hurt. As much as he hated the bastard, he didn't want him dead. Yet.

-0-

Malfoy prepared to stun and immobilize the intruder, when he heard him say SOMETHING in a strange language. Malfoy was unable to cast the spell as he felt a spike of pain in his ears, and his joints began aching horribly. The last thing Malfoy remembered was his wand blowing up in his hands, propelling his body a few feet back, and then darkness.

-0-

The newcomer stepped over Harry's prone body and stooped over, presumably to check his handiwork. Apparently satisfied, the unknown person made to leave, but stopped, remembering Harry lying on the floor.  
"Be well" he commanded, and feeling began returning to Harry's body.

Standing and wheeling around, Harry saw an unconscious Malfoy, the twisted, charred remains of his wand, and absolutely no sign of his savior. Who? Harry was sure he didn't have a wand, but he had still managed to do quite a bit of damage. A wide, burnt-black circle was visible on the train floor, and faint scorch marks could even be seen on the ceiling and far walls.

Harry's musings were cut off shortly as the train lurched. Grabbing his things, He ran to the nearest exit and threw himself out, just as the train began picking up speed.  
Within seconds, the train, with an unconscious Malfoy inside, soon disappeared from sight. Sighing, Harry trudged to one of the few carriages that remained and rode to the castle, pondering who his savior may have been.

* * *

Woooo yeaa ok this was a killer to type :p oh and in case you didnt realize already, the little -0- are page breaks.

But I think my word count keeps rising, so that's a good thing right? Did my writing get better? Worse? Should I just stop writing and go die in a hole? I need feeback guys :P

Oh and I'm afraid that Arthur's beginning to seem OoC, what do you think? Personally, I like him the way he is now, and keep in mind that he is older than in the books.

Douchebag grammar nazis are not allowed. or any other nazis for that matter. Trolls shall be beaten senseless, and if anyone sees a raging pedobear, that would be min...ahem nevermind.

Ok yeuup that's about it.

Review dammit, or you shall be run through with the mariner's harpoon, which he has seen fit to graciously "lend" to me for the purpose of exterminating all the little plot bunnies. DIE BUNNIES!

Mariner: Hey, has anyone seen my…Oh fuck no, not again….

Oh. Crap.

REVIEW :D


	4. This is a New Chapter Be Grateful :P

Right, so contrary to popular beleif, I am alive and kicking, just not writing. I hope to remedy that, so lets see how well that goes. OH, and apologies to anyone and everyone that was actually waiting on this story, I probably shouldn't have procrastinated so long, and for that I apologize.

On with the Story

* * *

Arthur supposed that he should feel just a tad guilty for nearly blowing up the blond idiot, though in his defense, it was an accident. Arthur had only meant to combust blondy's wand and perhaps singe his clothes and hair, however the spell had warped and fried the boy instead. Nothing was quite difficult to control-hiccups were bound to happen. At the very least, Arthur hadn't packed much power into the spell; blondy would wake up sore, burnt and confused at King's Cross station, wondering just what the hell happened. Inwardly sighing, Arthur trudged up to the final carriage, cocking his head curiously as he did so; The horses that this school used were...interesting...to say the least.

Reptilian skin pulled taut over an emaciated frame gave the 'horses' an intimidating skeletal appearance. The demonic look was completed with the large, black, draconian wings resting upon the creature's back, which had begun flexing restlessly with impatience. Noticing this, Arthur stopped examining the creatures and climbed into the empty carriage, relaxing back into the plush seats as the carriage lurched forward. As suddenly as it had started, the carriage jolted to a halt, nearly throwing Arthur out of his seat as the door to the carriage was yanked open, exposing a bloody, panting figure.

"Erm..." the figure rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, he hadn't expected anyone to actually _be _in the carriage. He _was_ quite late after all.

If Arthur was the least bit surprised, he managed to hide it with ease. Raising a brow, Arthur gestured to the vacant seats around him.

Murmuring a greeting, Arthur introduced himself while the newcomer awkwardly settled into a seat.

"Arthur Penhaligon, nice to meet you."

"Harry Potter" the now-identified newcomer responded, briefly grasping the proffered hand. For the next few minutes, an awkward silence reigned.

To be completely honest, the person sitting across from him unnerved Harry slightly. It wasn't as if he felt evil-Harry's scar hadn't so much as twinged when they shook-the stranger simply felt, well, _strange_ in a completely incomprehensible way.

Glancing out the carriage window, Harry attempted to distract himself as best he could, watching the ever-approaching silhouette of the castle looming over the horizon.

The strained silence was finally broken as the other cleared his throat, "You've been in the wars," Arthur noted as he gestured to the bloodstained robes and face of his companion "perhaps you should clean yourself up?"

It took a moment for Harry to register what Arthur meant, then promptly began fumbling for his wand as his mind finally registered the coppery scent of blood upon his person. A quick _reparo_ and a few _sourgifies _later, Harry was once again presentable. Laughing insecurely, Harry babbled some incoherent excuse about him hitting his head on the way out of the train and getting a bloody nose. A _very_ bloody nose.

The only response he got for his troubles was a quiet "hmm." Arthur knew, of course, what had actually happened, but no need to let the other know about it, right?

Once again, the oppressive silence threatened to make its presence known. For the sake of Harry's sanity, that had to stopped at all costs.

"So...erm, I've never actually met you or even seen you around before, what house are you in?" The bespectacled boy asked as he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of any house affiliation on the other person.

Blinking owlishly, Arthur looked up, then grinned faintly, "No clue."

At Harry's surprised look, Arthur elaborated, "I'm actually new, I've been..ahh...home schooled for most of my life, and your headmaster appeared over the summer and invited me here as a sixth year"

"Hrm? Don't think I've ever hear of something like that happening before, though I guess Hermione would know more about that. Don't worry, Hogwarts is great! It's like a second home to me..."

After that, Harry took it upon himself to explain why the school was so amazing, and just as he was getting into why the Slytherins were the most ungracious, racist, and just-plain-bad snake bastards that one could ever associate with, the Carriage shuddered to a halt, and the door opened itself to reveal a multitude of people milling about, talking and whatever else it is that teens do.

Arthur was, for the most part, relieved that he would no longer have to be subjected to the other boy's rant. While he found Harry to be a decent person, the irrational hatred of his green-and-silver colleagues was something that Arthur found rather disturbing. They were _teens_ for the Architect's sake, dislike was understandable and probably expected, but loathing? They were taking it a bit far in his opinion. Sighing and shaking his head in exasperation, Arthur followed Harry out of the carriage.

The raven-haired boy seemed to be searching for someone. Craning his neck and peering to and fro, Harry's eyes lit up when he finally found Ron and Hermione.

"Ron! 'Mione!"

* * *

As soon as he had exited the carriage, Arthur found himself promptly kidnapped by a severe looking witch in bright emerald robes.

"Mr. Penhaligon, I presume?"

Arthur could only nod speechlessly before he found himself being dragged along by the strict witch who had continued talking in clipped, rushed tones the entire time.

"I am professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore has informed the staff of your...unusual...circumstances, and since you have yet to be sorted, you shall be joining the first years in the sorting ceremony. I do hope that the student of mine you had been sharing a carriage with has told you something about the school?"

Finally finding his voice, Arthur chuckled slightly, " Yes ma'am, and then some. It was quite enlightening."

Surprised at the unexpected politeness, McGonagall let slip a small grin before continuing a tad less harshly, "Yes, well, my students tend to be the brash sort. In any case, as I was saying before, you will be sorted with the first years, so kindly join them, and" she glanced briefly over her shoulder as she strode away "do try to set a good example."

Left in the company of several midget...first years, Arthur awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot as he found himself on the receiving end of curious, incredulous stares. The fact that he towered at least a foot over the tallest one probably wasn't helping his cause. Sighing, Arthur leant his head back in a vain attempt to ward off a stress induced headache, and felt drops of water beginning to splatter on his face. Suppressing an even deeper sigh, Arthur attempted to walk briskly to some form of shelter before...

BOOM!

thunder and lightning rent the swollen sky and a torrential deluge of cold, fat drops of rain began assaulting the earth.

….Dammit all.

Of course, it was only natural that this would trigger a riot to get into the warm confines of the castle. A riot in which Arthur was an unwilling participant.

By the time the drenched first years (and Arthur) finally made it into the entrance hall, the upperclassmen had already situated themselves at their respective tables and were chatting amongst themselves. Harry had just been telling Ron and Hermione of the events on the train and the meeting with the strange person in the carriage. Hermione was surprised with the idea that a wizard could go for so long without proper schooling. Luckily, just as she was about to start a long winded explanation on just _how_ and _why_ it would be impossible to receive a decent education at home and then start criticizing the boy's parents, the entrance of the first years shut her up before she could get started.

"Hey mate, that him?" Ron nudged Harry and pointed towards the tallest figure lingering about near the back.

Confirming Ron's suspicions, Harry nodded.

"Blimey, he seems normal to me, though he is rather tall."

The entirety of the school was given ample time to profile the new sixth year as "Penhaligon, Arthur" was called and said individual walked up to the Sorting Hat. He was fairly athletic with a slim build, his movements were lithe and elegant; the physique of a trained fighter. Of course, the students didn't know that last part, it simply seemed as if the boy walked with a catlike grace, his movements fluid and easy. Brown-blonde hair loosely framed his face, swaying ever so slightly as he walked. And he was tall. Very tall.

Harry realized that the transfer was at least a head and a half taller than himself which was odd, considering that he himself couldn't exactly be called short by any means. Even Ron's tall, gangly form left him shorter than the new student by more than a couple inches.

Immediately, whispers broke out, and Harry could almost hear the rumor mills kicking into high gear. Even in his immediate vicinity, Harry could overhear the guys questioning his age and the girls questioning his availability. Harry sighed, Arthur was officially classified as a "strange person" in his head now. Sure he had thought it in the carriage, but now it was confirmed; Arthur Penhaligon was going to be a troublesome acquaintance. And Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be long before Arthur was being tailed by stalkers and the more romantically inclined persons. After all, as the more _giggly _females around him put it, 'he was _hot_.'

Harry sighed again, why could no year be normal?

* * *

To be completely honest, Arthur felt completely idiotic as he sat in front of the school wearing the mangy, thread-worn talking hat.

"_Mangy? I'll have you know that I have quite a distinguished lineage, thank you very much"_ an irate voice whispered into his mind.

Stiffening, Arthur's fingers twitched towards his key before relaxing once more. Tentatively, Arthur thought, _"I'm assuming that you would be the hat then?"_

"_Naturally, I am sitting atop your head at this very moment you know. Who else could it possibly be?"_ Apparently the hat was still a tad miffed at being described as 'mangy.'

"_Can a hat even have a lineage?"_ Arthur pondered

"_Obviously, child, I was not always a hat. After all, just how many talking hats have you met before?"_

Arthur had no answer to that.

Giving something akin to a sigh, the hat continued, _"Well, it matters not, let's take a look, shall we?"_

_"Hmmm? What's this?" _a whisper resounded throughout arthur's mind, breaking the long silence the two had lapsed into. _"I don't believe i have ever sorted someone like you before...If you don't mind me asking, what are you exactly?"_

The Sorting Hat had just undergone the strangest mental examination of its long and illustrious career. It had seen adventure in a land that should not exist, amongst beings that could very well have been gods, It had seen the destruction of the old existence and the birth of a new universe and it had met _him. _Well not met, more like encountered and observed. Somewhere in the recesses of this boy's memory lurked a figment of God himself. The creator, the omnipotent, the _Architect_.

"_You saw?"_ the boy's thoughts became sharp and accusing _"How much?"_

"_All of it. You are not human. You are something far, far greater. Though I cannot comprehend why you would be here. From what I had seen, you seem to be here because of..."_

"_Curiousness?"_ Arthur interjected, then chuckled, _"Is a God not allowed to be curious? At any rate, I am not a God, merely a portion of one."_

Heaving a deep mental sigh, the hat noted idly, _"You do not belong."_ a mere statement, no ill intent, just an observation, _"Regardless, it is my duty to sort you, no matter how difficult."_

A moment of contemplation, then, _"It may not be so difficult after all."_

The hat lapsed into thought before continuing, choosing its wording wisely-it wouldn't do to anger a god, now would it? "The Gryffindors are known to be brash, assertive and full of conviction, though they lack temperance. They see themselves as the righteous and just; When they find a rival they tenaciously foster that rivalry-after all, what is good if there is no bad to stand against? You are not like Gryffindor, you know the meaning of temperance and moderation and do not see the world in black and white. You may find the Gryffindors to be rather...tiresome."

Recalling the all-too-lengthy conversation in the carriage with the Potter boy, Arthur couldn't help but agree.

"_The Hufflepuffs are modest and loyal. While your loyalty is unquestionable, your humbleness is not. I sense that you, at least the other part of you, would not be happy with the complacency of the Hufflepuffs."_

The hat was conflicted. This was a truly difficult desicion to make. _"As it is with those destined for greatness, the final desicion is a tie between two equally reasonable choices. Perhaps you will fall into darkness, and perhaps you shall ascend to even greater heights. Regardless, the choice is not an easy one to make. One one hand you have pride and power surpassing Slytherin himself. You are the epitome of what all Slytherins aspire: power. You are capable of great and terrible things and I fear that the Slytherin house has been famous for creating several dark wizards."_

Again, the hat paused before finally delivering its verdict, _"You have an immense knowledge. You have seen something no one has ever seen before. You know the oldest way of magic, when something was shaped from nothing." _Silence for a second, and Arthur could almost imagine the hat licking its nonexistent lips in anticipation,_ "within you resides the secret knowledge of the aeons, and beyond; it is a great, unattainable knowledge. It is clear that you belong in..."_

* * *

"Think it died?" Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry.

"Ron!"

"Sorry 'mione, but look at it, its just sitting there! I don't think its ever been quiet this long before"

Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron, the hat appeared completely lifeless, not even muttering like it had at his own sorting. This went on for several more minutes before a sudden jerk shuddered through the hat, as if it had just woken from a particularly vivid dream.

Muttering under its breath for a bit, the hat seemed to finally make up its mind.

Drawing itself as upright as a hat can, it bellowed out a single word, and a blue and brown clad table erupted into applause: RAVENCLAW!

For the first time in several, _several_ years, the Sorting Hat wished it had the ability to drink again.

* * *

WHOO finally finished this chapter.

And just for clarification, I didn't make Arthur all pretty just because I felt like it, it essentially says in the book (from what I remember) that Arthur became a very pretty human. Since it never mentions what he looks like post-universe creation, I went with a toned down version of his god form. And Harry doesn't hate Arthur (yet), its just that vague sense of mistrust that you sometimes get with people.

Gah, this chapters been in the works for the longest time. I'll try to update more frequently, but no promises. And really if anyone feels like adopting this story go right on ahead, I don't mind, just message me or review with a link, I wanna see where you guys take it. Of course I will still continue (attempting) to write, but again, no promises.


	5. Surprise surpriseee

I don't own Harry Potter nor Keys to the Kingdom, they are property of Ms. J. and Mr. Garth Nix, respectively. In fact I own very little which makes me rather sad. Anyways, enjoy the chapter while I'm left to wallow in my poorness ._.

* * *

There was no denying it: He was bored. Glancing around himself, he noticed the blond who had introduced herself at last night's dinner as 'Luna Lovegood' had already dozed off, along with most everyone else in the room. Arthur sighed. For some reason, he had thought that his first class at a new school-a _magic school_at that-would involve more...excitement. At least a couple explosions. As it was, Arthur found himself slowly being seduced into an increasingly insistent nap as the ghostly teacher's voice droned on. and on. and on.

Arthur didn't know when exactly he had given up on remaining conscious, but he did remember just as he fell asleep that the boring teacher's eyes were staring at him with a mild curiosity.

Contrary to popular belief, Binns was perfectly aware of his current state of unlife; he had, after all, attended his own funeral. One would have to be a complete idiot to not realize his own death. The reason Binns had continued teaching past his death was simple: he enjoyed it. Though more so in the past than now. Distantly Binns could remember teaching in his younger years-his classes had been far livelier, no doubt. Life-sized, moving projections of goblin rebellions and giant wars tended to spice up a class. Now, however, it was no secret to anyone, least of all Binns himself that his class was considered the most boring course Hogwarts had to offer. It wasn't as if it were entirely his fault per se, it was mostly a result of him being...dead...and teaching for the last couple hundred years. After teaching the same material endlessly year after year, Binns just couldn't bring himself to be as enthused as he had been in his prime.  
Despite this, the ghostly professor couldn't help but have a brief flash of joy whenever he noticed a student actually partaking in his lessons-it gave a distinct feeling of happy nostalgia. This was why, as Binns was teaching his first class of the year, he felt a surge of hope when he noticed the new student had not fallen asleep. He then felt it wither away as the boy's eyelids drooped and his head plunked down onto the table. Well, so much for that.

The new student intrigued Binns. Being dead, ghosts tended to be more finely tuned with the order of the world, and Binns was no exception. The new child felt...strange. It was subtle, but unmistakably there, a feeling of...well just difference. Completely unplaceable, a gut instinct. He knew there was something odd, but knew not what. There was an aura about the child that interrupted and rejected the natural order, while at the same time a part of it. It was truly puzzling, and for the first time in a long, long time, Binns was curious. It would seem that he would have to drop by an old friend for a bit, he was due for a visit anyway. Surely, he would know what exactly was going on. Internally sighing, the weary professor continued his lecture, eagerly anticipating his 6th year gryffindor class. At least the Granger child knew how to pay attention.

* * *

So far, Harry's day was a mix of ups and downs. He was a hit with Slughorn in potions, though he did suspect it was due more to his famous scar than his actual potion. Though the potion had been good too; Harry had found a potions book which held shortcuts to even the most difficult potions. Then came Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class which (with a couple exceptions) he had enjoyed immensely this year. Unfortunately, it did not seem that it would be like that this year, as Snape had already managed to call Harry out and give him detention. Wonderful.

It was because of this that Harry was definitely not looking forward to his final class of the day. Hell, if it wasn't for the strict witch that was his house head, he wouldn't be taking the stupid class.  
Ron didn't even bother suppressing a groan, which earned him a dirty glare from Hermione.  
"Blimey Harry, remind me again why we signed up for this class?"  
"Because Hermione always let us copy off of her and we ended up with passing grades on the OWLs. And Professor McGonagall basically gave us no choice." It was true, upon finding that the three were among the few that had passed their History of Magic OWLs, she had 'strongly suggested' that they continue the class.  
"So we're blaming 'Mione then?" This earned Ron a light smack and another glare from the bushy brunette.  
"Well maybe I should just stop letting you copy off of me then, seeing as it's done nothing but cause you distress" she said sniffily.  
Upon hearing this the two males of the group paled and began apologizing profusely. Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked past them, pushing open the door, "Come on you two, we're going to be late."

Inside the classroom was an unusual sight: The ghostly professor was already there. For any other professor this wouldn't have been strange, but Binns was like clockwork. It was as if the professor followed a very strict schedule; every class for every period for as long as the three could remember, the professor of the most boring class at hogwarts would wander in through the blackboard exactly one minute and forty-eight (but who's counting right?) minutes after the start of class. He would then promptly refer to his notes and spend the next hour droning expressionlessly about some figment of history that very few cared to even try to remember. His veritable mountain of notes wasn't even on his desk-something unheard of.

Perhaps the most disconcerting aspect of the whole, bizarre scene was the look on their teacher's face. Instead of his usual platonic, dull expression, there was one of intense concentration, the already numerous lines on his face becoming deeper and more pronounced. Oh, and he was muttering to himself frantically under his breath as he paced-floated back and forth over the same spot.

All-in-all, their History of Magic teacher looked like he was having a mental breakdown.

"'Ey," whispered Ron nudging an unknown Hufflepuff student lounging in his seat, "how long's Binns been here? We aren't late are we?"  
Shrugging,the student replied, "He's been here since I came in and 'as been just floating there for the entire time, not even sure if he knows we're here."

"Excellent mate," he breathed. Turning to Harry and Hermione, "D'you suppose he's finally gone off his rocker? He doesn't seem to be all there if you know what I mean, I don't think he'd notice if we just left"  
"Ron! that's rude, I'm sure the professor has a lot on his mind." Turning to Binns she called out nervously, "P-professor? Professor, is everything alright?" Taking a step towards Binns, Hermione unconsciously recoiled slightly as she noticed that he started to drift in the three's direction.

Giving an involuntary shudder at the sudden wave of cold as the professor drifted through her, Hermione wheeled about to find that the ghostly professor heading towards...the door? He was leaving? At the start of class?

Again, Hermione uncertainly called out their professor's name, and despite the futility of it, attempted to tap Binns' ghostly shoulder and was rewarded with a slight chill.  
At least she had somehow managed to get his attention, "Hrm? ahh, Granger" he wheezed airily, "was there something you needed?"  
"Ermm professor, class is about to start"  
"Oh? so it is, so it is. Well, off to your seat Granger. You too Poppet, Wesley."  
"Why's he only remember your name?" grumbled a certain miffed redhead.  
"Shut up Ron." Came the exasperated reply. Sometimes her friends could really be idiots.

* * *

At this point, Arthur was beginning to wonder whether or not this whole 'magical school' idea was a smart idea at all. So far, the only class that had been remotely interesting was his potions class, where one of the gryffindors had somehow been able to create an explosion. Right as the class was starting. With water and only water in that cauldron. Arthur wasn't even sure _how exactly_ that was possible. Really, the kid was either a genius or severely magically retarded.

Now, sitting in his last class of the day, Arthur couldn't help but scoff at the greasy-haired man as he waxed eloquently about dark arts this and dark arts that.

Magic was magic, the origins were the same, it was the interpretations that differed. Arthur had no doubt that his 'House' magic would most definitely be considered 'dark' due to dangers associated with using it.

Arthur recognized this professor, he was the one that Potter had ranted about in the carriage, the one who was a supposed 'Death Eater' and worked for 'Voldemort.' Just what was with the obsession with death? That aside, the facts that Arthur remembered of the man had not been pleasant; he was biased against anyone not in his house, perpetually pissed off and stuck up. Then again, Potter wasn't entirely unbiased himself, so Arthur chose to reserve his judgement.

"...nd since Mister Penhaligon here seems to find the window far more fascinating than my explanation, he must be quite confident with his abilities. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate your apparent mastery of nonverbal spells to the class?" Sneered the man, not without a hint (or a ton) of sarcasm.

Judgement made, this guy's a jerk.

Forcing a bright, surprisingly realistic smile, Arthur replied "Not particularly, no sir. In fact, I feel like that may be a bad idea, my magic tends to be rather volatile and I'm afraid I may hurt you. So if it's all the same to you, I'll sit this one out, ooook?"

Snape twitched and ground his teeth, why did he have to get stuck with all of the brash idiots?  
_"Because you bring it upon yourself."_  
_"Shut up."_  
_"I mean, if you just left them _alone_ I'm sure they'd be more than happy to avoid you"_  
_"Go away"_  
_"No."_  
Snape shook his head, he really wasn't just having an argument with himself just now, was he? He would really have to talk to Dumbledore about that extended vacation after this was all over. Merlin knows he deserved it.  
Regaining his composure, Snape surprised himself when he managed to speak in a reasonably level voice, "I assure you, Penhaligon, that it is not 'all the same to me'. Now come up here boy."

Shrugging-_its your funeral_-Arthur dragged himself out of his seat and trudged up to the teacher who had magically cleared a space in the center of the dank room.  
"Now, I shall cast a spell at you, which you are to block nonverbally. I trust a simple _protego_ would not strain your '_volatile_' magic so easily, now will it Penhaligon?"  
Sycophantic chuckles from the Slytherins.  
Idiots, in what way was that even remotely funny? Snorting, Arthur replied stiffly, still with a forced smile on his face, "I suppose not sir."  
"Good, now...Begin!" Without warning, Snape's wand arm shot out and a jet of red light flew from it.  
Arthur didn't have any time to react. Hell, he still had yet to _find_ the stupid stick that was nestled somewhere in these god-forsaken robes. He was defenseless. Arthur's eyes widened when he felt the fourth key warm at his hip, where it was holstered. Instinct and experience told Arthur that the results would be rather explosive and that this couldn't possibly end well.  
Gut instinct proved correct.

From the student's (And Snape's) perspective, something strange and most probably impossible had happened. Without so much as raising his wand-some debated that he didn't even have his wand in his hands-Penhaligon had managed to avoid the spell with...disastrous...results.  
As all eyes followed the red jet of light, they noticed that it slowed and stopped for a fraction of a second, before a massive boom echoed within the room and the red beam simply vanished. Not deflected but vanished. It was as if the shield had consumed the spell. For a split second, right as the light disappeared, the shield actually became visible as a dark-gray mist spread out in front of Arthur.

What came next was far more interesting; as the red light vanished, the misty black shield expanded forward with a large BANG before dissipating completely. Not, however, before hitting their greasy professor and flinging him into the gaggle of Slytherins behind him.

Of course, the class (sans the Slytherin populace) found this tremendously funny and the only person not trying vainly to suppress laughter was the perpetrator himself. With his enhanced vision, Arthur could see the telltale burns already eating away at the man's sleeves and the backs of his hands, which had been most exposed to the blast. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur knew explaining those burns would be difficult-past experience dictated that only the most powerful of magics could heal such burns.

As the students began to notice that their professor was out cold, the laughter quickly died down and now everyone was standing there wondering just what exactly they were supposed to do.  
Deciding that this was his cue, Arthur cleared his throat, "errrm...Perhaps someone should fetch the nurse?"

* * *

Harry decided: this was perhaps their most interesting History of Magic class since their second year, when Hermione had managed to coax the teacher into talking about the Chamber of Secrets. Binns had somehow misplaced his precious mountain of notes, and as a result was having quite a difficult time pinpointing what it was that he was supposed to be teaching them. This resulted in him making quite a few mistakes and the general populace of the class being left to correct him.  
Finally, even Binns had to admit that this was going nowhere, and instead fell back on some of wizardkind's myths. Binns took comfort in the fact that these myths were technically historically relevant, after all cultures were built around their beliefs.  
Regardless, Binns felt odd teaching his class something that was not backed by actual cold, hard facts. However, by the time the end of class came about, he had to admit that this was probably his best class in years, if not decades.

"I must say, this is the most excited I've ever seen you lot, perhaps I should lecture about these things more, hmm?" Binns was surprised to see a lot of people agreeing with him.  
"Now, now, it was but a joke. After all, history is about facts, I can't very well go off teaching you random fantasies."  
"But professor, a people's culture is tied to history is it not?" This was, of course, Hermione.  
"Well of course! to suggest otherwise would be a folly! After all, wars are fought because of cultural differences. Take for example the goblin Zutd's rebellion against..."  
"Ah, yes yes of course professor" Hermione cut him off hastily before he launched into another lecture "but my point is that belief and religion are an integral part of a culture! Some might say that you _have_ to teach us more about this in order for us to fully understand!"

"but still.." the professor looked sadly at where his ghostly pile of notes usually rested. Aside from the ghostly clothes he was wearing, his teaching notes had been among the only physical objects that had followed him into ghosthood. They were among his most treasured possessions, after all. He had spent years upon years before and even after his death compiling sorting and adding to his extensive notes-how had he even lost them?  
"Oh...very well, there is nothing that can be done about it now," a cheer, then "But only until I recover my notes! Then it's back to business as usual."  
Murmurs of consent, then "Good, good, very good, now off to dinner with you! I'll have you know I am a very busy man and cannot be asked to babysit you lot!" Binns exclaimed with a hint of humor in his voice

The students were all left to stare at one another. Had this past class really just happened? Curiouser and curiouser.

* * *

Ehehehe, bet ya didnt think Id update so soon did ya? ^_^ As it is, I have a shaky idea of where this whole story is going, but input and ideas are always welcome, even if iI may not use all of them.  
Dreamweaver Mirar: Im gonna be honest, its been a long long time since Ive read either story, so I know for a fact that I'm gonna be off of some couple details. In this case however, I was referring to the time after the first years get off the boat and just before they enter. I imagine there would be bottlenecking with so many people and one entrance. So if that puts you at ease at all, youre welcome? I suppose?  
Aaaanyways, ima try to see if I can keep up with this updating speed, and if I can itll be a miracle

Constructive criticism is encouraged, ideas are welcome, and flames are grudginly allowed.  
Cheers

P.S. a cookie for you if you can guess who Binns' friend is ^_^


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